


Silent

by xipeek



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: F/F, I'll go down with that ship, Serena's POV, post 3.06, that's what happened in my head and nothing will change that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-07-20 07:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19988116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xipeek/pseuds/xipeek
Summary: There’s a bloody sea of red in front of you, and yet there’s only one Handmaid for you here. There’s only one woman.





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thanks to the wonderful @doreah for beta-reading. Another one-shot of what could (should, really) have been. Thanks for reading !

You’re sitting in your room, a haven of quiet in the midst of such a loud house, but you’re not really here. 

Every time you blink, you’re back there, in front of the Washington Monument, the one you’re still getting used to despite your best efforts. 

You see yourself standing tall, feel yourself arrogantly smiling, but she’s kneeling, and you feel her presence pulling you down. You want to kneel beside her, you long to surrender to gravity and fall to your knees. To let her know you’re still with her, despite everything, despite all the spiteful words, despite all this. June is looking down, her eyes probably closed so that she doesn’t have to remember every second of this agonizing moment. There’s a bloody sea of red in front of you, and yet there’s only one Handmaid for you here. There’s only one woman.

You have to clench your fist not to hold your hand out to June. You want nothing more for her than to be able to take your open hand and stand back up. You have to believe that somehow she’d still take it. Somehow you can fix this, fix this mistake that’s already burnt red against your retina, like so many Handmaids kneeling. 

That’s what you see every time you close your eyes, and as harsh as it feels, you’d rather welcome this painful memory than face the actual consequences of what you’ve done. You may just have compromised Nichole’s future and the thought is too much for you because this time June isn’t here to stand with you. Nobody’s here to tell you it’s going to be okay, nobody will tell you how to rectify this, no one will hear your silent prayer. Even God seems to have gone deaf.

There’s a quiet knock on the door.

“Come in.” Your distant voice calls you back to the present and these two words anchor you to the room, the here and the now. 

You see the air around the door glow red before she can even step into your room. She’s still here, June is still here. For a naïve beat, your heart feels relieved before you realize this means trouble, as it always does. 

“Dinner is served, Mrs. Waterford.”

She might as well have slapped you.

Not looking once at you, June starts to turn back to leave this room she never really entered and you’re too slow and too caught up in your own confusion to stop her. Just like that she’s gone, her footsteps echoing behind the door and then vanishing, as if she was never here. 

You’re not hungry but you go downstairs to meet with the whole household, and the hours that follow are akin to mental torture. Between the kids running around and June standing behind you, you feel like your heart is being ripped in two, not knowing where to focus or how to care for both at once.

There’s so much food on the table it makes you nauseated, and you barely touch your plate, instead pushing the food around until an escape is possible. Mr and Mrs Winslow are as pleasant as ever, making conversation as if this was any regular dinner party. Sometimes you feel like people forgot how it used to be, like this new normal has always been their life. And yet there are Handmaids standing still behind you, waiting for their orders. There are children running around whose biological mothers aren’t here, maybe aren’t even alive anymore. There are these striking colors that put you all into boxes, a neat little classification system that makes it simple for anyone walking in to know who’s who. The candles on the table, the flowers in the room, and the faint classical music don’t fool you anymore.

This isn’t your life. You want to turn around and see June, to look at her with pleading eyes.

“This isn’t real life, is it? June, we can’t let this happen!”

But of course the words never emerge, and you can't even find the courage to twist your head even slightly in her direction.

It never lasts, these exceptionally fleeting bursts of reality. Soon enough you’re caught up in your own fantasies, in this made-up world again where men decide how everything is going to evolve and women are made silent by every means possible, some subtle, others much less so. 

At last, dinnertime is over and you can politely bid goodnight to everyone, blaming the emotional toll of the day for your sudden retreat to your bedroom. 

There's a mirror in your room.

You look at your own reflection and it reveals how long this day has been. Wild strands of hair have escaped from your usual tight bun and golden locks are falling on either side of your face. You wish there was someone to comb your hair, to let it fall on your shoulder and make it as smooth as silk. You miss how you look with your hair let down and you can’t help but feel like your tight bun is the perfect metaphor for Gilead and its strict rules. One day maybe, you’ll be able to wear your hair like you want to. 

She doesn’t knock this time. You see the reflection in the mirror before turning around and facing June, her usual determination stuck on her face. She won’t be kicked out, you know that before she even closes the door behind her. Everything in her attitude is insolence, defiance. Her head isn’t down anymore, she’s looking right at you, chin up and eyes wide open. Her hands are resting by her side and the only reason why she’s not clenching her fists is because she doesn’t want to seem too aggressive, but you can read her rigid posture like a book. She wants to smooth you down, to lull you back to her side. You’re not sure you’re ready for this, so you just stare back. 

Silence has never been a problem between you two. June doesn’t look around the room. Doesn’t notice the bed with a single pillow. Doesn’t smell the lilies on the bedside table. She doesn’t see the pile of books you’ve hidden under the bed nor the sheets of paper covered with your writing scattered in their pages. She could learn so much with just a single glance, but this isn’t June. 

She has one goal and one goal only. Nothing will distract her from her objective. Only a few seconds have passed since she entered the room but it already feels like a lifetime. When she takes a step towards you, you have to fight the urge to back away. 

“Serena.”

There it is again, a name that sounds like a plea. Your own name takes a different meaning in her mouth and you can’t stand it anymore. It carries all the guilt, the shame, the regrets from this day. She made a mistake of your name and you can’t hear it anymore. Instead of stepping back, you go forward, pushing into her space knowing too well how imposing your stature can be. It’s the only way you can do this, you have to take the upper hand. You put one foot in front of the other until she’s right there, so close you can touch her.

“Serena,” she says again.

You ignore her like you’ve done so many times before and take another step towards her, forcing her to retreat. June hesitates for a moment before slowly backing away and this small victory makes you bolder. You weren’t expecting this, but there’s a thrill in making her obey like this, without protocol, without any eye watching. You feel it in your stomach, feel the hair on your arms stand on end. Her eyes never leave yours but you can’t quite guess what she’s thinking. All you know is that in this quiet room, June arrived like an unseen storm. But you were the thunder, all noise and power. The air is charged with the tension between your two bodies, one in red and one in cerulean. There might be a hint of surprise on June’s face, but you can’t decide whether it’s real or just wishful thinking on your part. Either way, she’s stepping back, mirroring your own steps but in reverse. Soon there’s a blunt noise that tells you her back is against the door of your room. 

For the first time since she entered, June takes her eyes off of yours to scan the bedroom, as if she's just realized it’s much smaller than what she expected. She’s at the edge already and her hands slowly reach behind her, seeking a solid foundation now that you've thrown her off-guard. Her palms are pressing against the smooth surface of the polished wood. Her blue eyes meet yours again and her lips part. 

You know it’s here. Your name is on the verge of these full lips again, ready to echo once more in the quiet room.

You don’t want this. 

With a final step, your raise both your hands and cup her cheeks before she can utter a word. The effect of surprise buys you enough time to lean in and crash your lips against hers. Now she can’t say it, now she can’t plead anymore, or so you thought. Because the faint whimper that you hear the moment your lips touch hers is even worse. But it’s the only way you have to shut her up. 

And despite all the reasons why it’s a reckless and stupid idea, at least it accomplishes what you needed the most at this precise moment: it silences her. Again.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her lips are exactly like you would have imagined. Or maybe you already did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little follow-up. Many thanks to @doreah for her wonderful editing, enjoy !

Her lips are exactly like you would have imagined. Or maybe you already did. They’re firm yet soft, full of contradictions just like June. Eyes still closed, you slightly pull yourself away and immediately feel the loss of sensation against your lips. June must feel it too, because the second you open your eyes you see her run her tongue over her lips. Fingers still grazing against her cheeks, you rest your forehead against hers. 

You’re trying to regain control over yourself. You’re the one who started this, it was your play but now everything is so blurry you can’t even remember what was supposed to be your next move. 

But it’s all right, because June steps up, like she always does. Her hands slowly trail up the length of your dress until they’re resting on your hips. She’s backed against the door, but even so, you’re at her mercy and you both know it. She easily demonstrates the power she has over you by circling your waist agonizingly slowly until her hands reach your lower back. Your bodies are pressed together and you can feel the heat radiate through her scarlet dress, making it ever harder for your to concentrate. You can’t let her win, not again. So you tilt your head forward ever so slightly, just enough for your mouth to graze against hers. And the moment her face inches towards yours, you know you haven’t lost the game yet. 

Her lips are seeking yours, slightly parting, but you back away slowly to let her chase after you. June lets out a frustrated sigh and the shiver it sends down your spine lets you know you’re enjoying this way more than you were supposed to. And you’re pleased to realize this doesn’t frighten you. 

You keep your lips out of reach and focus on your hands instead. 

Caressing her cheek, you let your fingers run up her face, brush against her ears and lift her white cap. It ends up on the floor at your feet, but you’re too busy freeing her hair from every last pin that holds it in place to care. Smooth as silk, her champagne locks run between your fingers and it’s all you can do before crashing your lips against hers again. Your grip on her hair tightens, June moans and you take advantage of her parting lips to slide your tongue in her mouth and deepen the kiss. 

A long forgotten yet all too familiar warmth settles between your legs and it’s the first time you've felt like a human being in way too long. There's no role to play here; you’re not an obedient doll anymore and neither is she. All you feel is heat, desire, and a mutual need to forget everything that isn’t flesh and breathy sighs. 

The kiss is demanding, tongues caressing each other and teeth sucking at raw lips. You unwittingly nip at her bottom lip before June pulls away, gasping. 

“Are you…” June whispers, but you don’t let her finish, though you’re touched by her concern.

“Yes.” It comes out almost a plea and you would have resented yourself for it if she hadn’t obliged immediately, lips trailing kisses along your cheek, down your jaw and across your neck. 

Yes, you’re absolutely sure you want this right now. And the only reason you’re finally able to acknowledge the burning desire you’ve been feeling for quite some time is because June is matching it just as feverishly, moan to moan, breathless sigh to breathless sigh.

June licks, and kisses the soft skin of your neck, grazing her tongue against your skin and leaving a wet trail on your throat. Suddenly, her hands are not on you anymore and you already miss the heat of her palms pressed against the small of your back. You glance at her, confusion and fear in your eyes, scared that she’s finally decided to put an end to this… _interlude_. 

But here they come, her hands reaching up your body and grazing against your breasts, resulting in you drawing a sharp intake of breath at the novel feeling. June fumbles with the knot of your blue collar, getting frustrated when it doesn’t come off immediately.

“Stupid fucking clothes… How can you even stand this shit strangling you every day?”

And it isn’t a question, not really, but the triviality of it makes the corner of your mouth slightly shift into a smile. 

“Let me,” you murmur, taken aback by the unexpected tenderness in your tone.

Indulging her impatience, you come to her rescue and put your hands on top of hers to guide her movements. You’re so used to tying this collar around your neck everyday that your hands can tie and untie it on their own. And that’s good, because your mind is busy elsewhere now that your collar is coming off and June is eagerly pulling at the hem of your dress to gain access to your clavicle. 

Your hands find their way back to her hair, stroking the little hairs at the back of her neck and, with your thumbs under her chin, you pull her face back up towards your own. You always liked the height difference between June and yourself, oh, but now you’re really loving it. Blue, hungry eyes are staring right into your soul and you relish the power you obviously have over her.

She’s a bit surprised by the turn of events and so are you. She wasn’t expecting you to apologize this way, and you thought she’d be more brutal after the words you spat at each other earlier that day. But you both needed to make amends and it seems like you’ve found a common answer.

Your mutual animosity fuels your desire, eager to prove you’re capable of feeling something else than rage, other than despair, other than the darkness Gilead has forced into you both. You want to show her there is love somewhere in your heart and that you can, even just for a moment, convey it to someone else. If not Nichole, then her mother will do. And she wants to fill you, to take back her accusations of emptiness. 

So your lips meet again, gently at first. Fleeting kisses give way to demanding mouths and you can feel something give way, a surge that takes over you both, two women lost in a world where they don’t belong but who finally found each other. The self-restraint that made you swallow your moans has been shattered, licked away by a devout tongue that slides against yours and completely buried under her whimpers. Her sigh against your lips arouses a warmth at the pit of your stomach and for a fleeting moment you marvel at this amazing and ever-so-strong woman who’s coming undone under your touch.

Hands on her hips, you pin her against the door with the weight of your body and can’t help but tug at her red shirt, pulling it out of her dress to feel the naked skin underneath. The moan that comes out of June’s mouth makes you bolder and you push against the fabric of her dress with your knee, slightly parting her legs in the process. Pressing her more firmly against the door, you slide you leg between her thighs and stifle your own weak cry when her hips instinctively thrust towards yours. 

“Serena…” June can’t stop the rocking motion of her hips against your thigh and her ragged breath, coupled with the visible flush on her cheeks prompt you to keep going. You don’t want to give her the time to stop and wonder what she’s doing. But most of all, you want to prove to her how hard you can love, how devoted you really can be.

So you lean into her neck, laying kisses everywhere you can, mouth trailing up to her ear and slowly sucking at her earlobe. She buries her hands in your hair and it’s all it takes to loosen your now very messy bun. 

Your face nuzzling against her neck and her fingers pulling at your hair, it all seems too familiar and yet you could have never imagined yourself being back in her arms again, not like this.

“Serena, please,” June breathes out as you bite and lick her pulsing point just below her ear, ready to leave your red mark on her skin. Another plea, but at least this one you can answer to.

You reluctantly pull back, away from her, from her sweet soapy smell and the groan of frustration that was about to escape your lips suddenly vanishes at the sight before you. June, utterly at your mercy, eyes dark with want and silently pleading you to give her more.

“What do you want?” you ask, your blue eyes never leaving hers. 

You can tell she’s struggling, she doesn’t want to give in but her body is aching for you. June starts to frown in a way that’s now so familiar that you would have laughed, were you not so entirely focused on your own rapid breathing. The old dynamic settles back quickly and here you both are, June wanting something from you and you already knowing you’ll give it to her. You can’t help but care, care _so_ much. No matter how many lies, how many times you’ve hurt her, you care deeply about June. And she won’t have any choice but to accept it.


	3. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter ! Thank you all for your patience and very kind words, and a huge thanks to @doreah for beta-ing the whole thing <3 Enjoy :)

“What do you want June?” You breathe against her lips.

“What do you think?” June mutters back, sarcastic as ever but this time with a side of frustration that lets you keep the upper hand. Rather than wait for your next move, she grabs one of your hands and presses it flat against her stomach, pushing it downwards.

The rim of her skirt is getting in the way but the moment your fingers touch her bare stomach, June gasps and suddenly nothing stands in your way anymore and you can feel the waistband of her undergarment at your fingertips. 

She’s crumbling against you, every tie anchoring her to reality undone, every chain broken. She’s free and you’re the one who did this. It urges you on like nothing else could have done. Or maybe it’s the sight of her closed eyes, or her head pressing against your neck. Or her hips rhythmically rocking against your thighs as if dancing to a gentle yet enthralling lullaby only you two can hear.

Your hand pushes back against the fabric agonizingly slowly, even for you. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel yourself disassociating from everything else but June and the hot responsive skin under your fingertips.

June’s head tilts up to capture your lips, her sensuous tongue sliding in your mouth. Just when you’re about to kiss back, she bites your bottom lip and rests her forehead on yours.

“Can you… Can you for once in your life quit being such a bitch to me?” June is panting and there’s a smile playing across her lips, but the deep and urgent tone of her voice makes it clear she’s not joking. “And hurry the fuck up.” 

You’d be offended if she wasn’t so blatantly right. She grabs your ass as encouragement and you finally touch her where she needs you to—where you need to—making you both whimper in unison. 

“Jesus, June. You’re so wet.” The words escape your lips before you can catch them and suddenly you’re brought back to the real world, to a blurry night in a bar, margaritas and a beautiful redhead who gave you sweet names and opened a whole new world for you.

June’s body quickly responds to your fingers grazing against her slick clit and your words prompt hers, so dirty, so incredibly normal between two women sharing an intimate moment.

“Inside.” June’s soft moaning plea is almost a cry. “I want you inside of me,” she whispers in your ear and the turn-on is immediate. It sends shivers down your spine that settle between your legs and you’re more acutely aware of the almost painful throbbing there than ever.

Your fingers slip between her folds, eliciting such a pleasant whimper you can’t help but rub against her a few more times before sliding two fingers inside of her, prompting June to grab at your shoulders. Deep inside her you can feel her clench around your fingers and you slowly take them out before thrusting again, harder. 

With every push, your own hand ends up rubbing against your crotch, slowly building up a tension that’s only made more unbearable with every one of June’s moans.

Careful not to slam her against the door, you keep pumping in and out of her, your thumb rubbing her clit in the process. She’s so close you can feel her tighten around your fingers but you’re not ready yet to let this moment end. Hips rocking against hers, you slow the rhythm to let her catch her breath. Your lips find hers and she eagerly kisses you back.   
You kiss for a long time, languorously, letting your lust and unusual intimacy wrap around you both, creating a world that’s only pleasure and sensuality.   
June breaks the kiss, licking and kissing along your jaw up to your earlobe until she hovers precariously close, gasping softly in your ear, almost begging. “Fuck me harder, Serena.”

Painfully turned on and speechless, you start thrusting faster, harder, curling your fingers just enough. In the haze of desire, at this point, anything she wants, you'll give it to her. Your own arousal is peaking and you can do nothing but exactly what she asked: fuck her hard until she’s moaning, biting her lip not to be too loud and finally shutting her eyes closed as you feel her orgasm around your fingers, over them, spreading a heat inside of you that almost makes you come as well. 

You’re so close that you can’t stop yourself and ride against her thigh until you’re there too, biting at her neck to keep yourself from screaming. Shaking and panting, you collapse against June and feel her arms supporting you. Mind still hazy and body slowly relaxing, you put your hands back around June’s neck and bring her close, kissing her as if your life depends on it.

There is so much more than lust and anger, than frustration and defiance, in that kiss. But none of it will be said, and none of this will ever be spoken about.

June has forgiven you, but she won’t forget. She won’t forget about Nichole and she won’t forget how you made her feel. How you took the upper hand and, most importantly, how she let you willingly, almost pleadingly. 

Her words, shouted with such violence a few hours earlier, come back to you.

“You will never be free of me.”

This time though, you hear them with a hint of a promise rather than a threat.


End file.
